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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869817">same thing, new rules (same rhythm, new blues)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostsies/pseuds/ghostsies'>ghostsies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dreamer Trilogy - Maggie Stiefvater, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bisexuality, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Casual Sex, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, Hook-Up, I love him your honor, M/M, POV Declan Lynch, and say "is anyone gonna have sex with this man", and they don't wait for an answer, declan "emotionally unavailable" lynch, declan "hookup a word for what was otherwise a perfectly nice time" lynch, declan "intimacy was allowed as long as it revealed nothing truthful" lynch, declan "we look like lobster tonight don't you think we do" lynch, declan &amp; ronan see hot guy with car</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:41:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,730</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869817</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostsies/pseuds/ghostsies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He met this first Ashley through a friend of his roommate’s, someone’s sister or cousin, and he was attracted to her immediately, all light blonde hair and sweet features. </p><p>He meets the second Ashley at a mixer for students when he starts at school in D.C. Ashley’s in his second year, a finance major dressed in a fitted button-down and casual but expensive shoes, which Declan does not comment on. </p><p>He really likes the third Ashley, or tries to, at least. She’s beautiful, and smart, and funny, even if he does sometimes zone out as she tells him about her day because Ronan won’t answer any of his twenty fucking text messages.</p><p>--</p><p>or, declan lynch tries to self-soothe the gaping hole in his heart through shallow romantic encounters with ashley (and ashley, and ashley).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ashley/Declan Lynch, Declan Lynch &amp; Matthew Lynch &amp; Ronan Lynch, Declan Lynch &amp; Ronan Lynch, Jordan/Declan Lynch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>same thing, new rules (same rhythm, new blues)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In retrospect, he should have <em>known</em> that cornering Ronan that way wasn’t going to work. He felt bad for involving Ashley in it at all, for letting her see that side of him, his family, for using this date as an excuse to check on his fucking brother in the first place.</p><p>He met this first Ashley halfway through his senior year at a party through a friend of his roommate’s—she was someone’s sister, or cousin—and he was attracted to her immediately, all light blonde hair and sweet features. She was a year older, a student at the community college nearby, and she was bolder than he had expected. They wound up tangled together on a couch in a corner of the room, giggling and making pleasant, if unsubstantial, conversation between kisses. "Let me take you out," Declan had asked her back then.  "Sure, Declan Lynch," she had cooed. </p><p>“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says tersely now, before Ashley can ask any questions about his family, about whatever the fuck that display of open aggression was. He presses on the gas as they leave the Nino's parking lot a little more firmly than called for. His car, shiny and new and fast—not too fast—obliges without complaint.</p><p>“Okay,” Ashley says quietly next to him, placing her hand on his upper thigh as he drives.</p><p>They can’t go to his dorm, because Declan won’t risk the attention of getting caught sneaking a girl in. He drives her home. Ashley says that her roommate just went through a breakup, so they can’t go inside because<em> “it would just make her cry again.” </em></p><p>She directs him to the back corner of her complex’s parking lot. The streetlamp overhead is burnt out. Ashley clears her throat once Declan puts his Volvo in park, then unbuckles her seat belt so she can lean over and brush a gentle thumb over the split on his eyebrow. There’s a bruise on his face that won’t ripen for another day or so, but it feels tender already.</p><p>“Does it hurt?” She asks.</p><p>A little. “No,” he says.</p><p>“You two really know how to fight, huh?” She says, then her eyes widen and she pulls away. “Sorry, I know you don’t want to talk about it.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” he says. Then, for some reason, adds, “Our dad taught us how to box.”</p><p>She must feel the energy shift because she looks at him with some concern, and the anger and sadness he’s feeling turn a little into self-loathing, too, for sharing anything at all.</p><p>Ashley hums and then leans in to kiss him. He allows it, follows her lead in a game of back and forth until the kisses deepen, until he runs his tongue along her lower lip and she makes a small breathy sound against his mouth. Her fingers work at his belt buckle and he shifts a little to help her. She smiles at him, pulls him free from his boxers, and then ducks down, wrapping her mouth around his dick and shifting a little to get better leverage.</p><p>He’s only half hard, but he leans his head back and exhales, one hand braced on the door grip and the other on the middle console, while he tries to clear his mind and she tries to work him up.</p><p>It’s not going to work. He knows he’s too in his own head about it even before she lifts up and says, quietly, “Um—“</p><p>“It’s—“ Declan sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “It’s not your fault. Come here.”</p><p>She does. Declan kisses her, sweet and slow, and tucks himself back in before he helps her over the console and into his lap where she can straddle him. Ashley gives a breathy moan as Declan moves to kiss her neck and slide his palm against her belly and into her skirt.</p><p>Her breath hitches—he pauses and says, “Is this okay?” and she nods and says “<em>Yes</em>,” as she pushes his hand lower.</p><p>The angle’s a little awkward, but he rubs a small, gentle circles against her, and then draws his fingers in slow lines, coaxing up and down, teasing at entering her. She whines, impatient, and unzips the closure at the back of her skirt to lift it up so that Declan can move his hand underneath her. He does, slipping one finger inside her much more easily this way. She kisses him, licking into his mouth and running her nails along the skin of his neck and shoulders. He moans into it and adds another finger, curving them inside her and removing them, periodically, to rub at her clit.</p><p>She bounces against his fingers until she’s breathing heavy into his hair and nipping at his earlobe. She bumps her head once or twice on the roof of the car, and curls over him now, fingers digging into his arms. </p><p>“Come on,” he urges gently, into her ear, because at least he can give her <em>this</em>. She grabs his face with her hands and kisses him, then moans high and soft, gasping against his lips, open-mouthed. He feels her tense around his fingers and he slows until she shivers. He removes them, then, and uses his other hand to brush the hair from her face. She rests her forehead against his and sighs.</p><p>“It’s late,” she whispers, after she comes back to herself a little. “I should go in.”</p><p>“Yeah,” he agrees. “I had a nice night.”</p><p>“Really?” She asks, a little guarded.</p><p>“Really,” he assures her, kissing her hand. Then, because he wants to make sure she feels better, he says, “Not even a parking lot fist-fight with my brother could ruin a night with you.”</p><p>Ashley laughs, climbs back over the console, and adjusts her skirt before she opens the car door.</p><p>“I’ll watch you walk in,” Declan says.</p><p>“Okay.” She gets out of the car and bends a little to look at him before she closes the door. “Goodnight, Declan.”</p><p>He waits until she’s safely inside before he leaves the parking lot and drives back to his dorm in silence. He’s careful not to wake his roommate when he gets in. He thinks about going to jerk off in the shower, but elects to just go to bed instead, still full of frustration and pain. He worries he had shown too much to Ashley, without meaning to. He worries about pushing Ronan too far outside of where Declan could keep him safe.</p><p>He eventually sleeps, fitful, and shockingly, Ashley agrees to see him again just shy of a week later. Being with her is a nice distraction. There’s a few more dinners, more car sex, stolen time together between their respective exams and jobs. One lucky evening, her sad roommate is out of town so they can <em>totally make use of a real bed</em>, Ashley tells him.</p><p>Afterward, she props herself up on one arm and watches him. He meets her eyes.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I don’t really know anything about you,” she muses.</p><p>Declan scoffs. “Of course, you do.”</p><p>“I know that you and your brothers go to Aglionby. I know that you don’t get along with Ronan. I know that you like to make me come, and that your dad’s not around.” She holds up a finger as she lists each one, waves it in the air when she’s finished. “Not even a full hand’s worth.”</p><p>That already feels like too much. He looks at her, prepared lies burning at the back of his throat. “What else is there?”</p><p>She sighs and brushes a curl from his forehead.</p><p>“I’m transferring to a school out of state. I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” She looks at him a little expectantly, like maybe this is his chance to stake a definitive claim in her life. Where he might say, <em>I want to be with you</em>, if he were another version of himself. Someone regular.</p><p>“Okay,” he says, instead. Her eyes are sad. Declan always knew they’d get here, he supposes.</p><p>Ashley does transfer, and not long after, Declan moves to D.C.</p><p>He does not see her again, but he thinks of her sometimes, after that.</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>He meets the second Ashley at a student mixer when he starts at Georgetown. Ashley’s in his second year, a finance major dressed in a fitted button-down and casual but expensive shoes, which Declan does not comment on. He’s talkative. He asks Declan about his major—<em>“</em>Government,<em>” </em>Declan says—and then he launches into a practiced story about his cousin who’s in political science at another university, but not having much luck, and that’s why he chose finance, much more secure, he insists.</p><p>“Sure,” Declan agrees, flatly. He holds out his hand. “I’m Declan.”</p><p>“Ash,” he responds, shaking in kind.</p><p>“Short for Ashley?” Declan guesses.</p><p>“Family name,” Ash shrugs. “How’d you know?”</p><p>Declan smiles and it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Had a hunch.”</p><p>It’s the kind of dull, surface-level conversation that Declan likes to find at events like these, especially since Ash asks him very little about himself after the initial introduction. He doesn’t think much else of it, until he notices that Ash keeps looking him up and down, his eyes lingering on Declan’s arms and chest, flickering to Declan’s mouth when he responds to Ash’s shallow questions with shallower answers.</p><p>He’s decently handsome and Declan learns eventually that he drives an equally handsome Corvette. The thought of someone like Ash in a car like that does turn him on a little, that and the champagne they serve at these events, so he leans forward and says, low, “Do you pick up all your men by mentioning that?” Ash smiles.</p><p>“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks, the softness of the question openly suggestive, tilting his head toward the door.</p><p>“Yes,” Declan agrees, pleased.</p><p>They go to Ash’s apartment. Declan’s townhouse is a little closer, but he lies easily about the distance, preferring not to share his address where he can help it.</p><p>The apartment is nice, new, about a ten-minute walk away. Everything inside looks a little like it’s not meant to be touched, not really. This doesn’t surprise Declan, whose experiences with other rich students in the city, and with his own townhouse, tracked accordingly.</p><p>“Drink?” Asks Ash, and Declan nods.</p><p>“Whatever’s fine.”</p><p>He ends up with a whiskey on ice a couple minutes later, and about ten minutes after that, Ash’s tongue is in his mouth while Declan works at undoing the buttons of his shirt.</p><p>Ash impatiently says, “Christ, Dec, it’s not like it’s a Tom Ford, just rip it off.”</p><p>It’s a little early for nicknames, he thinks, but he does get the last button free just then and mouths at Ash’s nipple instead of saying anything, running his hands over bare skin. Ash shivers and shifts them both so that they’re horizontal on the couch, a firm and practiced move that thrills Declan a little. He grinds against Declan, and Declan pushes back, the two of them twisting a little uncomfortably to remove belts, undo buttons, slide off their pants. Ash is breathing heavily against him, kissing at his neck, shoulder, collarbone, until he breathes into Declan’s ear: “I need--”</p><p>“Yeah,” Declan agrees. He kisses down Ash’s jaw, across his chest and belly, and takes him, full and heavy and hard, smelling a little like expensive body wash and the musky scent of sweat, into his mouth.</p><p>Declan enjoys this. He likes the weight of a cock against his tongue, the wet sweetness of licking between a woman’s legs, derives satisfaction from focusing intensely on such straightforward and uncomplicated tasks. He likes that it's one thing he <em>can</em> openly enjoy, likes knowing that he’s capable of bringing pleasure to people, after all.</p><p>Ash put his hands into Declan’s hair immediately and pulls. It feels good, so he hums around Ash’s dick, but then Ash pushes his head down a little, which Declan likes less. It’s unsurprising, but he’s been here before, so without fuss he reaches to take Ash’s hands out of his hair and pins them to the couch by intertwining their fingers. Ash moans. Declan’s mind wanders, until Ash bucks up into his mouth without much warning and comes, bitter and salty.</p><p>Declan moves his hands to Ash’s hips, pressing hard into his skin to keep his dick out of Declan’s throat while he rocks through it. Then Declan swallows, sits up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.</p><p>“Fuck,” breathes Ash. Declan doesn’t comment, just hums noncommittally and kisses at his hip. Ash hands him his glass of whiskey, sweated now from the melting ice, and Declan sits up to take a drink without breaking eye contact.</p><p>“Sit back,” Ash instructs, eyes heavy and voice husky, and kisses him once Declan has rearranged himself on the couch.</p><p>He lowers himself to take Declan into his mouth in turn. Declan closes his eyes, traces his hands across Ash’s shoulders as he works. It feels nice. It feels great, he tries. <em>Not quite</em>. But enough to almost take his mind off things, quiet his thoughts, as Ash trails his tongue from the base of Declan’s cock and to the tip again before taking the whole thing in his mouth and back against his throat.</p><p>Declan groans softly—it’s rude not to be encouraging—but is otherwise mostly quiet even as he comes a few minutes later, sighing as Ash removes his mouth with a satisfying <em>pop</em>. Ash kisses his way back up Declan’s body as Declan breathes, eyes closed. He savors this part, in particular—the brief blankness of his mind after an orgasm, the warmth of another person’s skin and mouth against him. How it could almost feel normal, <em>be</em> something in another time. He doesn’t linger on it long.</p><p>They sit for a moment longer, kissing lazily, naked and sticky on Ash’s cold leather couch until Declan separates to stand, dress and stretch.</p><p>“I should go,” he says.</p><p>“Sure,” Ash says. He stays there on the couch, but shimmies his boxers back on. “I’m glad we ran into each other tonight. Those events are usually so boring. Can I see you again?” He asks, earnest.</p><p>Declan pulls on his jacket and looks at him. He was attractive, thick blond hair faded neatly at the sides of his head, a collection of freckles and moles across his flushed skin. He had nice hands. Soft lips.</p><p>The feeling would pass.</p><p>“I’d like that,” Declan finally says. “See you.”</p><p>He walks out the door, out of the building and into the cool night air.</p><p>They do meet up after that, manage to keep it going for a few months, but it never gets deeper. One night, after sex had turned into showering together had turned into sex again, Ash says, “I like you a lot, but are you, like, not out?”</p><p>Declan pauses where he stands in Ash’s bedroom, and says, “No, it’s—not that.” </p><p>He does wonder if his brothers know, but a recent phone call with Ronan had gone no further than “<em>I can’t argue with you right now, I’m with Ash and he—” </em>before Ronan had interrupted with, “<em>Nope, fuck you and your catch of the week</em>,” and promptly ended the call. That’s not the <em>that</em> Declan means anyway, but he can’t tell Ash what <em>that</em> really is.</p><p>Eventually Ash texts a little less, and Declan responds even less than that, and the next time they see each other at a party some months later Ash gives him a curt nod from across the room, like a proper stranger.</p><p>Declan smiles politely back, finishes his drink and leaves, alone.</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>He likes the third Ashley—he really does. He actively tries to, at least. She’s beautiful, and smart, and funny, even if he does sometimes zone out as she tells him about her day because Ronan won’t answer any of his twenty <em>fucking</em> text messages.</p><p>“Declan?” She asks, frowning, which is how he knows he missed something important. He slides his phone back into his pocket.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says. “You have my full attention. Tell me again.”</p><p>"Is it Ronan again? Does he ever stop causing problems?" She scowls, the furrow of her brow and downturn of her mouth harmless on her beautiful face.</p><p>Declan almost answers, but decides not to breach the topic. He says, grinning, “Let me make it up to you.”</p><p>He likes going down on her. She pulls his hair, says things like: “Yes, Declan, you’re so good, just like that, <em>oh</em>!” And it’s nice to feel like he isn’t fucking something up, for once.</p><p>He takes her to out to restaurants, usually, pricey but not too pricey. She doesn’t mind the Smithsonian when they go there for a wine tasting one night, but her eyes glaze over a little when he starts talking about <em>why</em> the artist in the current showcase at the American Art Museum was considered controversial, really.</p><p>“I didn’t know you liked art so much,” she says, eyeing him.</p><p>“I had a class, once.” The lie comes out smooth as butter, a piece of himself tucked neatly back away.</p><p>She makes up for her disinterest later by riding him with such efficiency that he comes so hard his body tingles for several moments afterward. He likes <em>that</em>, certainly, and the way she curls around him when she sleeps over.</p><p>It’s a shame that, when Declan sees her next, she storms in his door and slams her small handbag against his arm where he stands in the kitchen. His headphones are still in, post-run, so he doesn’t hear her come in until the bag makes contact.</p><p>“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She’s asking as he rips his headphones out, shocked.</p><p>He raises a hand as if to stop her unexpected attack, and she looks at him, glaring, as his mouth falls open. “Jesus, Ashley, what?”</p><p>“What are we even doing?” She demands. Her bag is still raised threateningly.</p><p>“I’d love to know,” he responds urgently.</p><p>“We've been together almost a <em>year.</em> Do you care about me, like, at all?”</p><p>He falters. “I—Yeah.” It’s immediately the wrong response. “Yes, Ashley, yes.”</p><p>“I kept my whole day open. You kept telling me you were busy, but I thought it was just because you had something planned.”</p><p>He looks at her, grasping at understanding wordlessly, failing. She bristles violently.</p><p>“Ugh! It’s my fucking <em>birthday</em>!”</p><p>“Oh,” he says, feeling dread but maybe a little less than he should. “Shit, I—“</p><p>She holds up a finger. “No. Enough. I don’t know what your deal is, Declan, but you’re going to have a real hard time finding someone if you don’t actually pay attention to them.”</p><p>He tries to respond but anything he can think to say falls flat. That's the point, after all.</p><p>“I don’t even know you, you know,” she continues. “Not really. What the fuck is up with that?”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” is what he finally comes up with. It’s for more, perhaps, than just missing her birthday.</p><p>“I’m done,” she says, shaking her head. “I hope you figure out whatever it is you have going on.”</p><p>She turns immediately and leaves, slamming the door behind her. It echoes in his head as he sighs heavily and rubs his hands over his face. A headache is blooming in his temples.</p><p>His phone chimes. Three whole days after Declan’s barrage of irritated messages, Ronan responds, as if with a sixth sense for his brother’s frustration, in a characteristically brief text: <em>worry about yourself, asshole.</em></p><p>He bites down on the anger that arises at this, at his regret for being an unknowing jerk to such a perfectly nice girl, at the thousands of small details and circumstances that have put him here, now, at this moment. At Niall, for good measure. He tosses his phone a little aggressively onto the counter beside him. <em>God</em>, he appeals, helpless. <em>When will I figure out whatever the fuck it is I have going on?</em></p><p>Matthew comes noisily downstairs, then, headphones looped around his neck and controller in hand. It’s a welcome interruption to Declan’s oncoming self-deprecating spiral. In stark contrast to Ronan, his youngest brother is good for that. Usually.</p><p>“Is Ashley here?” He asks.</p><p>“No,” Declan says. “Have you eaten?”</p><p>Once he has Matthew reheating last night’s takeout leftovers, he showers, outlines a chapter for class while eating stale cereal for dinner <em>(“Matthew, did you seriously eat that </em>all<em>?”</em>), tries not to dwell on fucking up, and takes one of his sleeping pills so he can drift off, undisturbed and dreamless.</p><p><em>I meant that I was sorry</em>, he texts Ashley the next day, feeling exhausted anyway and a little guilty. <em>I hope you had a nice birthday.</em></p><p>She never responds, and he does not hear from her again.</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>When he first sees Jordan at the fairy market, there’s a shift that doesn’t fully knock him on his ass until their first date.</p><p>He’s distracted by the rush of adrenaline and aliveness she makes him feel, like a blast of cold fresh air after living in stale, unmoving heat. He thinks of how scary realness is now that it’s in front of him, thinks of how unconvincingly he had been just playing at it before with the Ashleys and the other people in between. How, without ever kissing her, he feels closer to her than anyone he’s ever been inside.</p><p>The sensible part of him slams his hands against the wall, screams <em>this is an awful fucking idea,</em> but it’s harder and harder to hide himself away each time she looks at him.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>, he thinks, over and over again. <em>I can’t stop this</em>.</p><p>She’s beautiful, and brilliant, and it makes his heart constrict in his chest. Even as he tells himself repeatedly and like salting a wound that she’s a dream, he thinks of her soft hand on his skin, the glint in her eye. His breath catches. <em>She’ll fall asleep</em>, he thinks, but at the same time he thinks also of her laugh.</p><p>He’s helpless, he realizes, to resign himself to the fall, to hitting the ground <em>hard</em>, while the carefully constructed world around him breaks apart.</p><p>It’s the first thing in his life that feels completely right.</p><p>He stops running.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is pretty self indulgent, thanks for reading!! i was urgently possessed to write this after tumblr users tovezza &amp; sunel0 mentioned ashley is technically a gender neutral name and that other gender-neutral language in the books could be interpreted to mean we've got ourselves a bisexual declan lynch. THEN i got in my feelings about how emotionally repressed he is and how he might use casual sex as a substitute for true emotional intimacy. haha lol etc i'm crying actually </p><p>title is from that's why i love you by SiR feat. sabrina claudio, which i listened to for about half of writing this and reads like a jordeclan song to me (but maybe for a sexy jordeclan tinder au tb fully h). native dc people i know nothing and i’m sorry if i did u dirty at all </p><p>if you want to scream about declan some more with me on tumblr, find me @ ghostsies.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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